The Forest Victor
by ForeverNightingale
Summary: "My name is Oaken Mortise. I am Twenty One years old. My home is District 7. I was the Victor of the 69th Hunger Games and this is my story of how I went from being nothing more than a 17 year old Lumberjack to being written into a bloodied history..."
1. Chapter 1

**Hey one and all and welcome to my very first Fanfiction. I'm really excited to be bringing you this story.I just hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.**

_**Copyright : I should know i do not own the Hunger Games in anyway shape or form [sadface] I do however own my O/Cs. As for the others i have only borrowed them for the purpose of this story.**_

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I can see it; a large golden horn sitting in the middle of a meadow, completely out of place. Yet, at the same time, it looked like it completely belonged. I can see the mouth of the horn as i exit the grass. Two axes are strapped to my back over my medium sized rucksack and several smaller axes hang from my waist. One of the smaller axes slips into my hand and as quickly as it got there, I look to see it embedded in the skull of the small, red-headed girl from district 3. I never did learn her name; all I know was that she is 13 years old.

Suddenly I wake up, and by instinct, I reach for the axe that stays beside my bed at all times. Without thinking, I throw it with what little strength I could. It spirals through the air and becomes lodged itself in the door directly in front of me. Although the outside the door is made of fine mahogany, the inside has seen better days. Due to my frequent nightmares, the door had become somewhat of a beacon for incoming axes, causing the door to fill with many large chunks. My hands have only stopped shaking as they make their way to my face. I can feel the sweat dripping from my forehead . Slowly, it drips down my face and mingles with a steady stream of tears. I try to wipe them from my face but they keep coming. I run my hands up from eyes to run them through my soaked Bistre hair, allowing it to weakly slip through my fingers, sticking to my forehead. I kick my drenched sheets off of my overheating body and fling my legs over the side, allowing them to touch down on the cool wooden floor. After a struggle I manage to slide the shirt off, which had clung to my burning flesh from the swear pouring out of my body. I toss it carelessly to the side as I push myself off my bed and stumble towards the door. I stop for a moment and my hands softly wrap around the axe and weakly remove it from the door before letting it slip from my grasp, causing it to fall to the floor, landing with a slight clatter of steel.

Staggering into the hallway, I shield my eyes from the sunlight penetrating through a slight gap in the curtains. It causes the usually dark hallway to flood with natural light. Brief blindness causes me stumble forward. Completely forgetting where the stairs are, I move forward, before I roughly tumble down them. Sighing, I lay face down on the hard stone. Cold light trickling in through the panes of glass of the front door illuminates my muscular and battle-scared body. Each scar is a story, a victory, a painful memory... Each scar a mark on my soul for all time. The largest and most notable scar adorns my back; a particular painful memory behind it. I place a hand down on the floor and roll myself onto my back. A loud groan hitches in my throat as the freezing floor lays its icy kiss upon sensitive flesh. I push against the ground and make it to my feet with great effort. I wait a moment to gather my composure and walk slowly to the cool morning air of the kitchen. It's a welcome blessing - the air in my bedroom is far too hot and, to factor in my frequent nightmare,s it made me feel ten times worse. The hallway is far too cold but the kitchen got the best of both worlds. I gently place my hands on the cool marble of the sink before slowly filling a glass with water. As I slowly sip it, I began to collect my thoughts. After such a horrible morning, the whole ordeal still fresh in my memory. Like a freshly made scar from a knife which would never heal. I stare into the void of the drain as my tears begin anew, dripping down into eternity.

"My name is Oaken Mortise. I am twenty one years old. My home is District 7. I was the Victor of the 69th Hunger Games. This is my story of how I went from being nothing more than a 17 year old Lumberjack to being written into a bloodied history..."

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**Well there you have it. The first chapter.**

**I know not much really went on in this chapter, this was just a way of slowly introducing you to the main character of this story.**

**As I'm sure most of you have read on other works Reviews and feedback is always welcome.**

**Since this is my first FanFic i also welcome critical advice and i feel it can only help me become a better author**

**Nightingale x**


	2. Words of Wisdom

_**Thank you guys for the the reviews that I have recieved so far. Like I said all reviews are welcome.**_

_**When I first posted this I didn't really have any expectations but to have almost 80 views for this story makes me rather happy.**_

_**On another note, I am really please with how this chapter turned out. I just hope you guys reading will think the same.**_

_**Disclaimer : As always I do not own The Hunger Games series unfortunatley, otherwise things would have been differently...MUCH DIFFERENTLY. I do however own the characters that I have created for the purpose of this work of fiction I have only borrowed the universe in which to place them.  
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Two more to go ... That is all I can think of as I stare down at the best attempt of a birthday cake District 7 had to offer. It isn't much, but you come to love it every year your birthday rolls round. My Birthday falls one week before the annual Hunger Games reaping. So far, my name hasn't been drawn for four years, now all I had to do was make it through the reaping next week and next years and I would be free from the threat of the games for life. However, unlike what those pampered assholes from the Capitol tell us the odds are not in my favour this year. With each passing year I would enter my name into the bowel more and more times for Tessera. This year my name would have been entered a grand total of 20 times. I only did this for the benefit of my family, as families go in District 7 mine is a rather large one.

In one little broken down wooden cottage lived; Me, my mother and father, my older sister, my little brother and my Grandfather. My father; Alder, is a woodcarver by trade which not many men from both sides of my family choose to do. My mother Anise and sister Juniper both work at the train station helping with loading the train carriages with our districts main exports. Juniper is a few years older than me, 24 to be exact and dam lucky if you ask me. Being able to live her life without the fear of the games sounds like a blessing , but since she is no longer eligible for the games her Tessera was no longer valid. As for my little brother Acornis. He has only just become eligible for the games at 12 years old and I've banned him from applying for Tessera. He's a sweet kid who looks up to me so I can't let his chances of going into a death game become greater. The final member of my family is probably the most important person in my life, my Grandfather the very man for whom I am named after. He is such an influential figure in my life. When I was first entered into the reaping bowel I could not stop shaking, I wanted nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow me whole. I still remember what he said to me that day and that moment has stuck with me my whole life.

_**Flashback**_

_The reaping day was here. The day I had watched for 7 years happen to my sister, never fully understanding what she was actually going through was finally happening to me. My 12th birthday had come and gone and with it the sudden sensation of panic, apprehension and above all fear. Instead of getting ready; unlike my sister whom by the time I was entered once was now out of the age range for the reaping, which is 12-18. I am huddled in the corner of the bedroom; that I share with my 7 year old bother and my grandfather, crying my eyes out. No matter what I tried to do I couldn't stop shaking. I am left alone to get ready myself as my mother and father are busy trying to calm my crying brother down. I feel that even at his young age he can sense there is something wrong with this day, something that I couldn't pick up on when I was his age._

_I am sat the fettle position rocking slowly muttering to myself about how I don't want to go when I hear a knock at the door."Go away!" I yell at the door as I bury my face deeper into my knees, feeling the rough fabric of my dress trousers dampen under the constant stream of tears flowing from my eyes. The door slowly opens with a slight creak. The floor boards begin to groan under the weight of the person who has entered my room. I feel a soft yet strong hand rest of my shoulder. My breath hitches in my throat as I look up through hazy eyes there is no denying this man is my grandfather. I look down at the floor boards in shame that he has seen me like this, I've never been the sort of person to cry let alone let someone see me cry. His rough hand places under my chin and tilts my head up. I pull my sleave down and begin to wipe my tear filled eyes, but he takes out his soft handkerchief and with great care; which is unusual for a former lumberjack, wipes my tears away. Slowly he helps me up; due to his age I don't fight against him and make it to my feet. He places his hands-on my shoulders._

_" What a mess you've gotten yourself into." I look down to see that due to my uncontrollable nerves I hadn't managed to put one button in its proper hole. A slowly undo each button and try again, but fail once more. He looks at me with sorrow in his eyes and sighs slowly. "You have to be brave Oaken...You can't allow the Capitol to see that you're scared.." I try to interrupt him, but he cuts me off. "And don't say you aren't because I know you are. After all even I get scared. It's not a crime to be scared." I look at my grandfather in disbelief, in all my life I have never seen him scared. He has been a constant pillar of strength in my life. He walks slowly over to the window and places his hands down on the window sill for balance. "You must learn to conquer fear, you are stronger than it. If you learn to conquer fear, then nothing can stand in your way."_

_I stop trembling, but I still manage to stutter. "B..u..bb ... but... what if my name gets called...I don't want to die.." My eyes start to fill with tears again. I run my sleeve across my eyes to see my Grandfather take the necklace he wears at all times off. He walks back over to me and put his necklace around my neck._

_"Then take this", He said to me, his dark hazel eyes staring straight back in mine it's almost like looking into a mirror. I look down at the necklace and take it into my hand and examine that it is infact a ring. I look at him quizzically._

_"Whos ring is this?"It's not something I've ever questioned, but I see his gaze soften, his eyes almost seem saddened. I fear I may have said something to upset him._

_"That is your grandmother's wedding ring Oaken. I want you to have it now." He takes the ring from my hand and stares down at it now with a look of love. "I loved your grandmother more than anything else in this world Oaken and this ring has given me the strength to carry on since her passing. But now I see now that you are in more need of strength than I do. Your grandmother loved you Oak." My heart twinges a little. My grandmother died when I was only three years old. So I don't really remember her that well, but my mother always told me she'd always call me her little Oak tree, and that one day I'd be the great Oak that would support this family. I turn my attention back to my grandfather. "So I know, she won't mind giving you the strength that she has given me." My hand closes around the ring tightly as i throw my free around around my grandfather and hug him as tightly as I could without hurting him._

_**Flashback End **_

The cracked face of the clock strikes midnight and so ends my 17th birthday. The last shred of joy I'll be able to enjoy this coming week until the reaping has passed. Though even after I may feel no joy as the threat remains that a friend of mine may face the games ... even I could face them, or worse still Acornis could face them.


End file.
